


Details

by tevinterimperium



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Banter, Bisexuality, Casual Sex, Conversations, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Talk, Friends With Benefits, M/M, One Shot, Relationship Discussions, Sex Is Fun, Sex Talk, Sexy Times, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tevinterimperium/pseuds/tevinterimperium
Summary: Wilson always wants to beclarifying things.House thinks the mystery is sexier.





	Details

**Author's Note:**

> written in a record time of two hours! I am still on season one. mostly an excuse to write their banter and also acknowledge the fact that they are having sex.

“So, are you going to… get on with it?”

“What?” Wilson asks. He’s straddling House firmly on House’s bed, carefully avoiding his right thigh. Neither of them are wearing shirts, but the button of House’s old jeans has been undone. On the other hand, the zipper remains untouched. House’s belt has fallen somewhere on the floor, but neither of them are very careful about that sort of thing.

“You know,” House says, gesturing unhelpfully. “Get on with it.”

“What?”

“Are you dumb? Are you some kind of idiotic, broken record sent into my home and bed to replace Wilson?” House snaps, rolling his shoulders in a quick, jerky motion. “You know.”

“I don’t,” Wilson replies carefully, like House is the insane one.

House puts on that voice that he does when he’s speaking to his fellows. “Well, we’re necking like teenagers on my bed, half-naked, and we’re both unreasonably hard for men our age. Take a wild guess.”

“I was always told that consent is supposed to be specific,” Wilson explains, adjusting his position to get more comfortable since apparently now they’re having a conversation in the middle of this.

House rolls his eyes, lets his hands fall out to his sides in a forgotten motion, then resettles them on Wilson’s hips. Grounding. Wilson is glaring at him beneath those boyish, bushy eyebrows. “You know… ride me.”

“You somehow made that sound incredibly unsexy.”

“Well, _you_ ruined the mood by acting like your dad didn’t tell you about the birds and the bees. I thought it was obvious.”

“You could’ve wanted something else!” says Wilson, kind of going screechy and high-pitched like when House needlessly accuses him of flirting with a pretty nurse or secretary or patient.

“Oh, come on. Did the two mutual handjobs and three blowjobs up to this point not make it obvious?” House retorts.

“Only one of those handjobs was mutual. You never made up for it after you fell asleep on my office couch,” Wilson quips, still trying to be as-a-matter-of-fact in a context like this. “And really. There are other things you could’ve been asking for.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he struggles, moving his head side-to-side to avoid actually looking at House directly. “You may have wanted me to… you know.”

“And you were mad at _me_ for not being obvious?”

“Fuck _you,”_ Wilson says, and the obscenity doesn’t really fit right in his mouth and it makes his lips curve in a foreign sort of way. It’s charming in its oddness, but really, the thought isn’t very charming at all. As _if._

House scoffs. “ _You?_ Fucking _me?_ That’s gold. Submit that to the Funnies at the newspaper. I’m sure they’ll love it.”

“I’m serious!” he declares, still up an octave. “Plus, what if _I_ wanted to fuck _you?”_

“The key word in that sentence being ‘if’.”

Wilson stops turning up his chin like how he does when he’s frustrated and assesses House for a second. Furrows his eyebrows and makes those cute little lines appear in between them. He’s trying very hard to have dignity for someone who is still at least half-hard and shirtless and sitting on top of House. “Why are you so sure I want to receive?”

“That makes it sound like I’m a blood donor,” House sneers. Then, after a moment, “I can just tell with these sorts of things.”

“How? With what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How you walk. The heroic doctor complex. Your gay haircut.”

“My haircut isn’t _gay,_ ” Wilson says, which is rather ironic for someone who is discussing getting fucked by his best friend and not particularly complaining about it. “And I _don’t_ have a heroic doctor complex.”

“Yes, you do. Explains all the questionable doctor-patient relations. You just want to save the poor little boys and girls and you’ll do anything to take care of them.”

“Shouldn’t that mean I should be topping them?” asks Wilson, amusement creeping in but not enough to break the jest. “You know, medic saving patients with his magic dick? Screwing them on their sick bed? Playing doctor every step of the way?”

House pulls a face. “First of all, ew. Second of all, no, because you’d give yourself and your body up for them. Valiantly fuck yourself on their dicks,” he says, then purses his lips. “Or, you know, whatever the equivalent thing for people with vaginas would be.”

“Didn’t stick the landing,” Wilson comments. He pauses for a second. “I don’t actually have _that bad_ of a heroic doctor complex, right? Good God.”

“Stop scrunching up your nose like that. I’m kidding,” House amends, then moves his hands further back to grip Wilson’s ass. “It’s by the way you keep on grinding down on me and practically _begging_ for it.”

House lets his voice go a bit lower at the end there, and at it, Wilson blushes a sweet pink at his cheeks. In an attempt to maintain his dignity, he says, “So, you took a wild guess.”

“That’s how it often is in my line of work,” House replies, moving just a little so he reminds Wilson that he does, in fact, have a cock that is at least somewhat interested in the proceedings. “Guess and check. Run some tests.”

“Are you implying I’m a patient?”

“Can we move away from the patient/doctor thing? Not as sexy as it is in the pornos.”

“Ew. You watch patient/doctor pornos?” Wilson asks. House was sort of leaning up for a kiss just a second ago, but Wilson has leaned back now and they’re back where they started. “Doesn’t that make every interaction you have with a patient weird?”

House shrugs. “They don’t normally look like they do in the movies. You know, tits-wise.”

“And you’d tell me if they did,” Wilson says, like he’s finishing the thought. Which is true, because more often than not, they’re ogling women together in exam rooms.

Then, Wilson gets one of those tightly-wound, worried looks. Just as House is ready to let the program begin again. “Would you ever let me top, though? Like, ever?”

“It is clear to me that no matter what, you will be on top,” House snarks, glancing at his leg, then adds, arrogantly, “Only physically. Never figuratively. My figurative manhood has far more dignity than my literal one.”

Wilson is not having it. “Seriously. Would you ever switch?”

“Jimmy, darling, we’ve only had sex five times. _Three_ times if you only count oral, since otherwise, no real _exchanging_ of fluids. How about you give it a few more test runs before deciding if you want to fuck the cripple?”

The creases in Wilson’s forehead have actually only doubled. It’s cute, but not really very conducive to the situation at hand. “Don’t say it like that,” he whines, not that he intended it to sound like whining. “I mean it.”

House now has to actually consider it, so he sighs and rolls his eyes again and starts massaging Wilson as best as he can at this angle. “Fine. I’ll consider it. But it would be new for me.” He fake-gasps. “You’d be taking my virginity, Doctor Wilson.”

His expression goes soft. Amused. Kind of sweet. ”Thought the doctor/patient thing _wasn’t_ sexy.”

“Hmm, not sexy when you do it. Hot when it’s _me._ ”

“Hmm,” Wilson hums back, framing House’s torso with his hands and leaning up into him. He opens his mouth just a little in a way that should be mockable, not tantalizing, but he was always a mess of contradictions. “Guess we’ll see, then.”

House, whose face is suddenly very close to Wilson’s, bites his lip and eyes Wilson up and down. Redness returning to his cheeks. Smirk pulling at his mouth. Wilson wants to kiss him, quite a bit. Instead of indulging, House says, “Shouldn’t you be… getting yourself ready?”

“What?”

“You know,” House explains, nodding at Wilson’s general body. “Getting ready.”

“Eager, are you?” Wilson asks, leaning in and kissing the spot just beneath House’s ear. He’s practically entirely on top of House, clouding his vision, making him the only thing in view, which may have been the point. As he pulls off, the suction breaking makes a little noise. Wilson stays hovering at his ear. “Are you asking because you want to help, or because you want to watch?”

House lets his voice get all gravelly. “Oh, you know _I’d_ never be helpful, Doctor Wilson. I’d much rather enjoy the show.”

Despite the hint of mocking in that, Wilson pulls back and undoes his pants without House’s hands getting in the way. He smiles, not at all boyish but rather something of a much more devilish nature, which sends a jolt down House’s spine. All teeth and pretty pink lips. His hair is falling into his eyes. “Well, House,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”


End file.
